


Lost Brothers And Broken Hearts

by mikeyrevengeway



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Multi, Originally Posted on Wattpad, cryptic as shit, mikey doesnt sleep ever, ryan is my favorite, very emotional and messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeyrevengeway/pseuds/mikeyrevengeway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been nine months since Gerard went missing, leaving his brother, Mikey to wonder why he left. </p><p>Mikey finds a note left by Gerard in a very Margo Roth Spiegelman-esque manner, telling him that he is the only person Gerard would be okay with finding him. </p><p>And with that, Mikey sets off on a journey to locate his brother using rather vague instructions, on the way meeting a little more than slightly emo boy by the name of Pete Wentz, whom becomes a close friend to accompany him on his journey, and maybe even something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mikey didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

It was one AM, he was sitting in his room with a duffle bag packed with some clothes and other essentials, such as his flashlight and iPod, because music is essential to living a full, happy life.

He still had the note Gerard had left him under his desk leg all those months ago, signed with a scratchy,  _ xoG.  _ Mikey was going to find him, Gerard had said he could be the only one to find him. But Mikey was still scared, hell, he was terrified.

He was only fifteen, he didn't need to be searching for an incognito brother that may be dead for all he knew. But Mikey didn't want to think of that. He also didn't want to think too much about what he was doing, because if he did, he knew he would chicken out and never see Gerard again.

Mikey had taken all the money he had and put it towards a bus ticket, because one of the clues Gerard had left told Mikey that he was out of state, somewhere very different from Belleville. Mikey tried to amp his confidence up, eventually forcing himself to stand up and bid a farewell to his bedroom as he slid out through the window to the ground below.

Mikey's heart was racing, adrenaline making him sweat with anxiety in the cold. This was a decision that could change his life. He could finally see his brother again.

Mikey had noticed Gerard's abnormal behavior by the time the elder's sixteenth birthday came around. Gerard became overly secretive, always carrying a notebook with him and never letting anyone in his room, not even his mother. He'd stopped talking at the dinner table, stopped talking in general, only speaking when Mikey asked him a question about high school or what was wrong. To the latter question, Gerard would always sigh and reply to Mikey by saying, "the worlds a little much at the moment, Mikes. I'm just trying to block it out."

Mikey didn't fully understand what was up with Gerard, but he would find graphic drawings of skeletons and darkness(as well as nude figures) in Gerard's room whenever he snuck in. He hadn't taken note of how Gerard always had a backpack packed in the corner of his room, or how he sometimes came home smelling like cigarettes and sweat. He was always just 'the worlds a little much' and never 'I'm having a lot of trouble but I can't tell anyone because I'm afraid there's something wrong with me'.

Mikey had only realized that after Gerard disappeared on the night of his seventeenth birthday.

And now Mikey stood outside his window on a cold January night, understanding why he had to find his brother. For him, for his family, for  _ Frank. _

Frank had utterly lost it after Gerard had left. The two had always been close, practically inseparable, as friends of six years. Frank had asked Mikey if he knew anything about where Gerard was, and at the time, Mikey hadn't found the note yet, so the answer was no, much to Frank's dismay.

Frank had begun showing up at the Way household everyday since August, sitting in Mikey's room and crying with the younger boy until they could pull themselves together and play video games without breaking down halfway through the match. Sometimes he got angry, once even breaking Mikey's window because he was so upset. But the emotion that became his default mood was sadness, and Mikey had no idea how to help him.

Frank had left in the middle of December, leaving a note to Mikey saying he was looking for Gerard. Mikey was confused and upset by this, because Frank had left him to look for  _ his _ brother, and he couldn't imagine that Gerard meant as much to Frank as he did to Mikey, because they weren't related, and they weren't anything more than best friends. Mikey was left alone with nobody to turn to when Frank left.

And now Mikey was chasing after Gerard too, bundled up in his warmest coat and following a line of runaway teenagers to a mysterious destination where Gerard had found refuge for the past nine months.

Mikey breathed in and out, a puff of steam erupting from his lips as he trudged through the thin layer of snow covering the ground in the direction of the bus station.

-

It was almost two AM when Mikey reached the bus station, out of breath and freezing. He hadn't remembered how far the walk to the station was, and unfortunately for him, it was cold and he was out of shape.

The ticket wasn't as expensive as Mikey had thought it would be, thankful for the extra cash he could keep with him on the journey. The other passengers boarded and Mikey slid down in his seat, reading Gerard's first note over again.

_ Mikey, I'm going away for a while, you know how I told you the world was a little much? Well it got to be more than a little much. I'm just waiting out the storm in my head Mikey, I'll be back soon. But if momma sends out a search party for me, don't help them. Please. I don't want to be found by the police, I either come home on my own terms or get found by you. If you ever want to find me, I won't be in New Jersey anymore. Go to Philadelphia and ask for someone named George Ross. He can help you find me, if you even want to find me. XoG _

Mikey let the words swim through his jumbled ocean of thoughts for a while, not taking them in again because of the lack of sleep he oh so desperately needed. He tucked the note into his coat pocket and let his head fall against the window of the bus, his eyes fluttering shut as he slipped into sleep.

-

When Mikey awoke, it was lighter outside, the sun peeking through the clouds ever so slightly. He pushed his glasses up his nose, feeling a presence in the seat beside him. He turned to see a boy about his age in a wrinkled Misfits shirt and skinny jeans half asleep, his black hair hanging in his eyes in a way most people would classify as emo. Mikey could tell he had eyeliner smudged around his eyes, one eye looking a little more black and blue than the other.

The stranger's eyes fluttered open as Mikey stared at him, his brown eyes meeting Mikey's with a new hint of light in them.

"Oh, you're awake. Sorry I sat here, there were no other seats and it was like three AM. I'll move if you want." The boy said, already grabbing onto his bag and what looked like a guitar case in preparation to move.

"No dude, it's cool. What's your name?" Mikey asked, sitting up in his sea and rubbing his eyes.

"Pete. Pete Wentz. You?" Pete asked, running a hand through his hair and brushing it out of his face.

"Mikey Way." Pete nodded, smiling at Mikey sleepily and tapping his hand on his thigh.

"Nice to meet you, mikeyway. What brings you to this half ass bus ride?" Pete laughed, eyes scanning Mikey's appearance.

"My, um, brother went missing. 'bout nine months ago. Left me a note on where to go if I wanted to find him. I'm gonna bring him back home."

Pete looked more thank surprised at the answer he received, opening and closing his mouth to reply, but no sound came out.

"Damn. I expected some teenage angst story about how your mom wouldn't let you smoke weed in the house or something. Not 'I'm rescuing my brother since he's been missing for nine months'. Shit man, how you gonna do that on your own?" Pete looked genuinely concerned for Mikey, which he appreciated, since Pete hardly knew him. But Pete's question did make a lot of sense to Mikey. How  _ was _ he going to do this on his own?

"In all honesty, I don't know, but it'll happen somehow. What are  _ you  _ doing on this 'half ass bus ride'?" Mikey raised an eyebrow at Pete, who looked a little more than less eager to reveal the reason.

"Mostly dicks at my school. Just kinda roughin' me up too much to stand it anymore. It's stupid really." Pete was looking down as he said this, from which Mikey could infer that he was lying. But he didn't push it. He knew that sometimes people just had too much shit going on in their lives to be around anymore. That was what it was like with Gerard.

"Okay. You got a place to go?" Pete looked up at Mikey with a shy smile, shaking his head in response. Mikey frowned at that, along with the reveal of black eye Pete was sporting on his left eye.

"You wanna come with me? After all, how am I gonna do this on my own?" Mikey offered Pete a friendly smile, who returned it with a nod.

"Great." Mikey said, smiling again at his new friend as the bus passed a sign with the words ' _ Welcome To Philadelphia'  _ printed on it.


	2. Goodbye Notes Hardly Do A Thing

Mikey had gotten off the bus with Pete in tow, settling them into a space behind a lamppost and the bus station. Pete shouldered his guitar case and bag, brushing his hair out of his face with a puff of air.

Mikey looked down at the note from Gerard again, turning it over to find and address of where to ask for this 'George Ross' fellow.

"Is that an address?" Pete asked, leaning over Mikey's shoulder and slightly putting his weight onto him. But Mikey didn't mind all that much, he hardly even noticed.

"Yeah. Gerard gave it to me so I could ask for someone that could help me-now us I guess-find him." Mikey read the address over again to try and memorize it for a reason he didn't particularly know. But if he managed to actually get a cab to stop for them then he could just tell him.

"We gonna get a cab or walk? I refuse to walk by the way, so you have no choice." Pete smiled wide like a little shit at Mikey, making Mikey chuckle.

"Okay Wentz, we'll get a damn cab. Chill." Mikey grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, walking down the street to the road. He heard Pete's footsteps behind him: stumbling and uneven like he was drunk. Mikey turned around to see Pete tripping over himself with his bag being held by what appeared to be a single finger. Mikey sighed and looked at his new friend with his signature 'what the fuck are you doing you idiot' look before setting his bag down and helping Pete readjust his own.

"C'mon Wentz, let's try to make it to the side of the road without you losing your shit." Mikey smiled and grabbed his own bag off the ground, walking over to the side and waving an arm out for a cab. At least three cabs passed him without even stopping before he let out a small noise of exasperation.

Pete laughed.

"Gotta problem?" Miley glared at him.

" _ Yes _ . None of these jackass cabbies will stop." He pushed his glasses up his nose and growled in annoyance.

"Watch and learn, vigilante." Pete took a step into the road after setting his bag and case down, letting out a whistle louder than Mikey thought was possible and waving his hand in front of a cab who came to a quick stop in front of them.

Pee turned to Mikey and opened the cab door, holding open for the taller boy.

"After you, your highness." Pete slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his case, putting them into the trunk. Mikey made his way over to the cab, slightly annoyed and slightly impressed. He handed his bag to Pete to put in the trunk, giving the cabbie the address of the place to meet George Ross as Pete shut the trunk and slid into the seat next to Mikey.

"How impressive was that, mikeyway?" Pete smirked as the cabbie pulled into the lane and started beeping his horn at other cars.

Mikey snorted.

" _ Very.  _ Never seen someone call a cab as smoothly as that. Ten out of ten, Wentz. Ten out of ten." Pete laughed, a lovely sound that made Mikey's life seem less shit.

"I appreciate the sarcasm. Really boosts my ego." Pete snickered. Mikey laughed along with him as the cabbie pulled in front of a seedy-looking bar/crackhouse that looked like it hadn't been washed since the seventies.

"This the place?" Pete whispered to Mikey, who nodded after noticing the sign with the address Gerard had given him. He paid the cabbie with some money from his bag, and helped Pete grab the stuff from the trunk. Not even a minute after they had gotten their stuff, the cabbie peeled out of the snowy parking lot and back down the street, leaving the two boys standing in front of the crackhouse.

"Let's see if we get murdered when we go in, shall we?" Pete said, walking up to the entrance and knocking.

"Pete don't knock-" Mikey whisper-shouted just as the door was opened by a tall man who was covered in tattoos and looked like he could kill someone with a single finger.

"Who ya lookin' for, pansy?" The man's voice didn't exactly match his appearance; it was higher pitched and less threatening than Mikey would've guessed it would be, but the man's death glare didn't make him any less terrifying.

"Uh, George Ross. We're looking for George Ross." Mikey said, unfortunately catching the attention of the scary tattoo man.

"Ah, Ross. Said he thought someone would come looking for him sooner or later. Come in." He opened the door wider and let the boys pass him.

The inside of the crackhouse looked more bar/pub-like than a crackhouse, which made Mikey fear less for his life, but the various people covered in tattoos and piercings didn't tone down the level of shit Mikey found himself in.

"Ross is at the back table. Say Hurley let you in. Don't worry, he's more of a pansy than you two are. Good luck." Hurley smiled and patted the two boys on the back roughly in the direction of where he said 'Ross' was.

Mikey and Pete slipped through between the tables, the smell of cigarettes hung in the air like some cloud of nicotine and death, but he just tried not to breathe it in. They approached the back table slowly, Pete standing a little closer to Mikey than one would've thought to be necessary.

The man sitting at the back table had this long-ish wavy brown hair and intricate eyeliner that formed this design of a butterfly that made Mikey less scared of him. He was also wearing a shirt that looked like it belonged in the sixties, and had a joint in his mouth with papers spread across the table in front of him.

Mikey was the first to speak.

"George Ross?"

The man snapped his head up to face the two, raising an eyebrow that looked like it had been plucked in confusion.

"Who's asking?" He said, narrowing his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side.

"M-Mikey Way and Pete Wentz. My brother-" Mikey was cut off by the butterfly eyeliner man.

"Ah, a Way. Never heard of a Wentz, but I guess I'll get to know you sooner or later. This about your brother?" George stood up and leaned forward on the table with his hand, raising another eyebrow with a smirk that Mikey would kill for.

"You know about Gerard?" Mikey's voice choked up a little at Gerard name, which was a horribly pathetic thing to do in front of someone you just met and someone you had just met maybe an hour ago. But he didn't care, Gerard's disappearance had made him realize how much his brother really meant to him, even if they fought sometimes.

Pete placed a hand on Mikey's arm in support, which Mikey silently thanked as he looked at George.

"Yeah I know about your brother. If you don't mind me saying, I think he's a goddamn idiot. Running away from your problems isn't something all that intelligent, no offense to you or him, he's actually a pretty cool dude. Just a massive ass." George said and laughed a little.

"Do you know where he is?" Mikey asked, leaning forward in anticipation for the answer.

"Not exactly. All he said was if you showed up to make sure you didn't get fucked over and make sure you've got a place to stay. As well as some vague-ass poetry that I can't remember right now but I wrote down somewhere. So I'll find that for you later tonight, and you can stay at this hotel next door for the night. I'll pay.

"As for now, if you have nothing to do, stay here and we'll talk a little bit. I wanna get to know you, and we'll get some food. On the house. Take a seat, gentlemen." Neither Mikey or Pete needed to be asked twice, they brought seats over and sat down eagerly, awaiting what George would say next.

"So I know you're looking for your brother, there was actually another guy who came in here last month asking the same thing. I got him the info and he was gone that afternoon. Short little guy, I'm going to assume you know who he is?" Mikey nodded in response.

"Frank. One of Gerard's friends. He was really upset after Gerard left, I didn't know they were as close as they were in all honesty." Pete had been silent through all of this, as he knew next to nothing about Gerard and was really only there because Mikey had offered him to tag along because he had no place to stay.

"Ha. Wish you could've seen this guy when he came in. He was in fucking hysterics, crying and screaming when I said I didn't know exactly where Gerard was. Damn near broke my arm; the asshole. You sure they weren't dating or something?" George raised his eyebrow for what had to be the fifth time since Mikey has started speaking with him, raising a question Mikey hadn't actually considered.

He'd never known much about Gerard's sexuality, in fact, he couldn't even remember Gerard mentioning anything about it. Now that he thought of it, Frank and Gerard  _ had _ been closer than most beat friend usually were, Mikey not really taking notice of it because he was more involved with comic books and accidentally discovering his brother's porn collection, which he regrets even to this day.

"I don't know about the dating thing, but Frank did get really violent after Gerard left. He broke my window once. Also broke my laptop." Mikey heard Pete snicker next to him, and he nudged the emo boy with his elbow to shut him up.

George seemed to notice this and raised his eyebrow yet  _ another _ time.

"You two dating?" Mikey felt his cheeks color and Pete laugh like the asshole he was, speaking up for the first time since they walked into this place.

"I've known him for a little over two hours. I don't think I could start dating someone in that time. That is, unless we had a twenty minute handjob party in the cab on our way here, which we didn't, so I don't think we are." Pete had both Mikey and George laughing by the time he finished his statement, which helped to lift Mikey's spirits up.

"I like you, what was it? Bentz?" George asked Pete, who laughed a little at the mispronouncing of his name.

"Wentz, actually. Oh, and Hurley said to tell you he let us in." George nodded and rolled his eyes at the last part of Pete's words, snickering.

"Hurley being all tough and shit again. He's a fuckin' vegan, wouldn't hurt a fly. And anyways, I like your spunk, Wentz." He turned to Mikey.

"Keep this one around for this shit. You'll need the company. Trust me on that."

Mikey nodded.

"Okay George." Mikey said, which made George's eyes darken slightly.

"Call me Ryan." He said. Mikey and Pete nodded in response.

"How much sleep did you two get last night? You need some?" Ryan asked the two, Mikey realizing he had only gotten about two hours the night before, and the fact had finally caught up to him in the fact that he felt like he was gonna pass out all of a sudden.

Pete must've felt the same way, because he nodded with agreement when Mikey said:

"Yeah, where can we sleep?

Ryan gave the two a little half-smile, standing up and gesturing them to follow him as he started walking towards the front of the bar.

Mikey and Pete stumbled after him, bags and cases in hand, trying not to bump into anyone that looked like they could kill them.

Ryan waited for them at the entrance, waiting until they caught up to walk out the door into the beginning of a morning snowstorm.

"Shit, sorry about the cold, when you get to the hotel you can rest and get food. Meet me at around five o'clock back in the bar so I can tell you some more stuff about your MIA brother. Get some rest, and here's some money to pay for the room." He walked into the lobby of the hotel and nodded a hello to the employee behind the counter as he handed Mikey the money, waving goodbye as he walked out the door.

Pete looked at Mikey and shrugged, walking up to the counter and asking the employee for a room.

"How many nights?" She asked, typing a few things into a computer before looking back up at Pete and Mikey.

"One. Under Ryan Ross, if you could." Pete said, and the girl typed a few more things into the computer.

"Both of you staying?" She asked, to which the boys nodded, and she typed more into the computer.

"It's a hundred and sixteen per night for the both of you to stay." Pete took the money from Mikey and counted out the amount they needed, with a large portion of what Ryan gave them still left over. He handed the money to the girl, who rang it up and handed them a room key.

"Have a nice stay." She said as they went off to the stairs.

"What room are we in?" Mikey asked as he struggled with dragging his bag up the stairs, because he was a weak asshole.

"104. First floor up." Pete said, grunting as he nearly dropped his guitar case as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Oh thank god." Mikey said, making Pete laugh when they reached their room. Pete scanned the key to the door, as it was one of those fancy hotels with the card keys, and opened the door to a room that had to be smaller than Mikey's bedroom back at home.

There were two full-size beds and a small nightstand with a lamp on top that looked like it belonged in a   furniture store in the nineteen-eighties; a small desk and chair next to a window looking out over the Philadelphia streets. The bathroom was small with a shitty looking shower from what Mikey could tell, and there was a small television on a stand across from the beds.

The boys practically flung themselves onto the beds, Mikey relishing in the comfortable mattress and Pete turning on the TV.

The news was on, and the story caught Mikey's attention very quickly. He lifted his head up to see a blonde woman in a blue dress sitting at a counter, the news station logo in the corner of the screen and a smaller screen for showing pictures of the story in the right-hand corner.

The woman started the report:

" _ And onto a story no parent wants to hear: _

_ As of about three O'clock this morning, fifteen year old Mikey Way has been missing from his home in Belleville, New Jersey. The parents of Way had woken up to see their son missing from his bed with his window open and footsteps in the snow leading southwest." _

The screen in the corner flashed a picture of Mikey, as well as a picture that his parents must've taken when they realized he was gone: a picture of his bedroom window open with his footprints in the snow outside. The woman continued;

_ "This is unfortunately the second time the Way's have had a child go missing, their eldest son Gerard going missing in April of last year, still yet to be found. It is believed that the two disappearances are related, as the younger Way had been severely distressed after the disappearance of his brother." _

Mikey and Pete were staring at the television now, silent and shocked: absorbed in the talk of one of the two on national television, Mikey feeling scared and very concerned for himself.

_ "These disappearances can also be linked to another, one of Frank Iero; sixteen. Iero had been a close friend of the Way family, and had been reported as becoming very violent and depressed when the elder Way had disappeared. His disappearance happened in December, which concerned both the parents of the Ways and Iero, as Mikey had gone missing only a month later. _

_ There has been no reported evidence of where any of the teens have went, but a sign with the elder Way's signature was discovered on the side of a California office building last night." _

A picture of a spray painted message appeared onscreen, the message reading " _ I'm too afraid to keep on living, I'm too afraid to walk this world alone. So I keep running until I can't sing anymore  - xoGWay".  _ Mikey felt like he had been punched in the chest. The new reported continued.

_ "The chilling message was captured by a man named Jay Castell, who posted the message onto his Instagram page trying to find anyone who knew of its origin. The photo was seen by someone who knew of Way's disappearance, and reported it to the local authorities, who in turn reported it to the national authorities. _

_ They have requested if you have any information as to where any of the teens are, please call-" _

Mikey hadn't realized he was crying until Pete had come over and hugged him, and then he let loose: sobbing and gripping at Pete's shirt like it was a lifeline.

Pete was being rather helpful, rubbing Mikey's back and letting him cry, telling him he would be okay, and even though Mikey knew he didn't know if it would be okay and was just being optimistic, but Mikey appreciated the gesture anyway.

"Pete I'm scared. What if he's dead? What if he-" Mikey let out another sob.

"What if he killed himself?"

Pete didn't say anything for a minute, rubbing Mikey's back to try and sooth him.

"I don't know, vigilante. But it was found last night. Maybe he hasn't done anything yet. Just try and rest. We'll talk to Ryan about this, okay?" Pete was trying to be optimistic, and Mikey knew it. But he was tired and emotional, and he just wanted to go to sleep and wake up where Gerard was in the room next to his and he wasn't relying on a eyeliner-wearing stoner to tell him where his brother was. But even if he knew where Gerard was, or if Gerard was still at home, he wouldn't have met Pete.

And he was really thankful for Pete right then.

 


	3. You're The Vigilante And I'm Your Sidekick

Mikey woke up with a crick in his neck and a body pressed against his back. He blinked and sat up, feeling an arm on his waist. The curtains were open and the world outside was dark, everything was blurry, as his glasses had fallen off and were on the ground, hopefully unbroken.

He tried to get up, but Pete’s arm around his waist tightened around him, holding him in place. Mikey turned to the other boy: curled up in the fetal position with his shoes still on. He looked rather peaceful, and Mikey felt a little rude disturbing him, but it was about four o'clock now, and they had to meet Ryan at five.

“Pete...Pete wake up...Pete.” Mikey whispered, poking the other boy’s face to get him to stir. Pete;s face contorted and he turned his head into the bedsheets away from Mikey, making a low noise of protest. Mikey started poking his face again, which got Pete mumbling and pushing himself off the bed to glare at Mikey.

“You see, I was trying to sleep.” He said: voice scratchier and lower than his normal voice. Mikey smiled and poked him again, Pete swatting at his hand and shoving him away. Mikey laughed and fell off the bed, grabbing his glasses and putting them on.

Pete rolled over to place his arms under his head and look at Mikey, still with an angry look on his face that looked a little forced. 

“You’re a dick.” He said.

“Rude. But seriously, get up. We’re supposed to meet Ryan in like an hour.” Mikey stood up and cracked his back, walking over to the window to look at the street below.

There was a loud groan behind him, which was followed by a thud, to which Mikey turned to see Pete lying on the ground face first looking as though he had passed out again.

“Pete quit it and get up or I’ll kick your ass.” Pete mumbled something into the carpet. “What was that?”

Pete turned his head to face Mikey. “You have permission to kick my ass. Only if i get a knife during the fight, and you stay unarmed.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow at Pete. “That’s hardly fair. If you get a knife then I get a gun.” Pete turned himself over on his side at that.

“How is it fair if you have a gun? And besides, a gun would kill me. You don’t want to kill me. Yet.” He laughed at the last part, and Mikey rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t say the gun would have bullets…” Mikey said, which made Pete snort and sit up so he was leaning against the bed.

“And what, vigilante, could you possibly do with a bulletless gun?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and giving Mikey a smug look.

“Pistolwhip you.” Pete laughed at that as well, looking at Mikey and shaking his head.

“You’ve been playin’ too much GTA, vigilante. Goddamn.” He stood up and stretched, walking over to the window to stand next to Mikey.

“Why do you call me that?” Mikey asked, Pete turning away from the window to look at him. Mikey could see the coloring of a bruise around his left eye, its edges tinted a sickening yellow.

“Well, because you kind of are a vigilante. You’ve taken all this shit into your own hands, and apparently the law has completely given up. So you’re the vigilante, and I’m the witty sidekick. Off to save someone I don’t even know.” Pete laughed, Mikey feeling the darkness behind it, an emotion that just didn’t fit with Pete’s age. Too bitter. Too broken-hearted. Just adding a little more to Mikey’s knowledge of Pete.

Pete was looking at Mikey, and they were studying each other like this was some cheesy fake-deep movie where the characters all have hardships that are weighing them down, but the two protagonists find solace in each other and their lives pick up. Mikey didn’t really care about the cheesiness at the moment, because there was a loud knock at the door, which startled both of the boys.

Pete answered it with his stance showing he was ready to jump the person at the door if necessary. Mikey wondered if that happened a lot where he was from. 

“What’s up teenage runaways, I’m here early to escort you to the place where it will literally take two minutes to walk to, because I’m an impatient asshole like that. Hope you're ready!” Ryan smiled, the eyeliner that trailed onto his cheek creasing when he grinned. 

Pete relaxed his stance, and Mikey walked up to the door to stand next to him. Ryan studied them for a minute before stating:

“Well you like you slept together and then cried about it afterward.” Pete snorted at that while Mikey blushed, because there was  _ some _ truth in Ryan’s statement, just not exactly in the way he meant it.

“Half true. Sleeping in the unconscious state, and crying in the state of mild emotional trauma.” Pete smiled as he said that, which confused Mikey, because only minutes before he had looked like he was dealing with some mild emotional trauma himself. It was odd to see how people could put on a mask so quickly, without a seam showing at all. People were weird.

“I’ll take it you saw the news?” Ryan asked Mikey, who nodded and took a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Yeah, that’s some shit you’re in man. I’m not gonna lie, I think Gerard’s gonna do something. I don’t know what, but definitely something. I do sympathize with you, he was close to me as well. But you know that there are some things we can’t help.” Mikey set his jaw, holding back from either screaming or crying or possibly both, noting the sadness in Ryan’s eyes.

Mikey took a deep breath. “You said you could help me. Take us to your crackhouse or whatever it is and tell us what you know. Please.” Mikey’s voice broke at the word please, to which he saw Pete flinch at out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay, let’s not get crying before I even tell you anything. C’mon, I think you’re pretty hungry.” Ryan said, leading the two boys out of the hotel room and out of the lobby, walking into the bar/crackhouse thing Ryan seemed to be in charge of. Mikey wondered if he was in a gang.  _ It’d be a pretty shit gang if some gay ass butterfly bitch was in charge of it _ , Mikey thought, holding in a snicker to himself as he caught the eye of the man who let them in earlier that day, Hurley.

Ryan sat at the same table he had when Mikey and Pete had first saw him, the two boys sitting across from him. He pulled something out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth, which of course set Mikey on guard, but Ryan didn’t seem to like the item.

“Fucking shit,” Ryan said. “Old ass skittle in my pocket. Why did I think that was a good idea?” He shook his head and spit to the side, which was a little disgusting to Mikey, but this obviously wasn't the most classy place.

“Anyways…” Pete spoke up, Ryan turning his head to him in what seemed like over-interest.

“What do you know about Mikey’s brother? You said he left a note or something like that?” Ryan nodded to that, pulling a crumpled piece of paper someone had attempted to smooth out in vain from the pile in front of him, sighing heavily at the words.

“This is honestly just an emo shitfest. I’ll just skip over the parts that don't give much insight. Blah, blah, blah, something about not eating for a few days, blah blah blah- _ ah _ , here.” Ryan cleared his throat, smiling at the stagnant face of Mikey for a second before beginning in an over-the-top dramatic voice:

“ _ Get away from it all and take a break from the world _

_ I’m so sorry, but not really _

_ Because this is an escape I can live with _

_ But i’m not sure I’ll be living for long _

_ Stay safe baby brother _

_ Remember the palm trees and lampposts _

_ And the scent of a heart close to mine _

_ xoG” _

Mikey was sitting there with his mouth open up in shock, he had no idea what to say. There was a lot of stuff in there that caught him off guard. He felt a little overwhelmed, obviously unlike Ryan, who just looked a little bored with Mikey’s reaction.

“You got anything to say or are you just gonna sit in trauma for a while until I kick you out or you start crying?” Mikey suspected the second option was more likely to happen, but he felt Pete’s hand on his, and he looked over to see Pete giving him an encouraging look. That helped a little. Pete was a good person to have around in a time like this, he seemed to understand it. Mikey was grateful for that.

Ryan scoffed subtly-yet-not-so-subtly. “I feel like I’m watching an episode of  Real Housewives and some bitch found out her husband is cheating on her with some fourteen year old secretary. No offense, but I’m a pretty insensitive bastard.” 

Mikey wasn’t really surprised by that, but it still kind of hurt to see Ryan be such a dick when he was supposed to be helping him. But Mikey worried that if he said anything to piss Ryan off he would let the guys in this bar beat him up or leave him and Pete out on the street for the night to get hypothermia. 

“Okay, let's get some food for you two and send you on your way. Try and figure out what the hell this shit means by tomorrow morning and I can send you on your way to wherever your brother may be. Hurley! Let’s get some food here ‘aight?”

-

Dinner with Ryan hadn’t been as unpleasant as Mikey had thought it could’ve been. He’d found out that Ryan had come from a family with a lot of money, and while the rest of his family went about using it to buy fancy boats and small islands in Indonesia, Ryan used his share to manage a seedy bar in Philadelphia with the occasional weed or prostitute buy. Ryan was a pretty interesting person to say the least, and had no filter whatsoever, which resulted in a few questionable or just plain shocking remarks throughout the night. He told the story of how he met Gerard (Ryan had been in Jersey looking for a strip club job because he had been an asshole nineteen year-old and had no idea what to do with himself, and Gerard had been in a comic book store next to the strip club. Ryan had eventually decided to go into the comic book store rather than the strip club, which benefited him greatly, as he now had a new friend and an extensive amount of comic books) as well as how Gerard often snuck out to Philadelphia over the weekends on multiple occasions to see him, because although Gerard wasn’t a very social person, he was a good friend.

Ryan had also told them some knowledge that they had already known; that Gerard’s sign had been found in California last night and that he was most likely on the West side of the country. Ryan had explained to Mikey and Pete he would be completely willing to pay for two plane tickets to California for them, which Mikey thanked him for repeatedly, Ryan getting annoyed with it after about three thanks and telling the both of them to, quote unquote, “Fuck off before I use my money to pay for an assassin to shoot you, which I am completely capable of doing.” Needless to say, they had left quite quickly after that.

They had gotten back to the hotel and laid down on the beds again, watching the TV in silence until Pete got up from his bed and sat on the small ledge next to the window, staring out of the glass.

Mikey got up and sat beside him, staring out the window too, although he didn’t really know what he was looking at.

“Palm trees and lampposts…” Pete said suddenly, startling Mikey. He noticed Pete was swirling his finger across the back of his hand, eyebrows narrowed as he stared at the road below them.

“What about it?” Mikey said. Pete looked agitated, something Mikey had seen him like before, but this was a more frustrated and confused agitated then a ‘you woke me up you asshole go die’ kind of agitated.

“Palm trees are in California, so that's part of it. But lampposts? Do you know what that could mean?” He turned to Mikey, who was honestly surprised that Pete had gotten so invested in this so quickly.

“Maybe...I have no idea…” Mikey looked out the window, scanning the streets below them again. The cars were moving at a steady pace, yellow headlights glowing almost too bright in the night. This part of Philadelphia was more on the outskirts of the city, so it was darker, but there was still the glow from the city in the distance. Mikey caught something out of the corner of his eye, the headlights of a car shining on a large lamppost near the hotel.

“There’s a lamppost there.” Mikey pointed to the lamppost, and in response Pete’s eyes grew and he cursed under his breath.

“How about we check it out tomorrow morning, and if we find anything we tell Ryan and he can help us out. Maybe you can think about this cryptic message a little more too, because you obviously understand Gerard more than I do.” Pete said, getting up and climbing into his bed, turning the TV off and going silent. Mikey got up from the window and crawled into his own bed, thinking about the few lines Gerard wrote and Ryan read to them.

_ And the scent of a heart close to mine. _

 


	4. I'm Hopelessly Hopeful You're Just Hopeless Enough

“There’s nothing on the goddamn lamppost Mikey. We’ve been here for like twenty minutes. There is nothing. On the lamppost.” Pete’s voice was tight with agitation. Mikey didn’t care. They had some form of a lead as to where Gerard was already, but if there was another clue in the lamppost, they could have an even bigger chance of finding Gerard.

“Well even though I’m taller than you, I still can’t reach the top of the lamppost, and I can’t get onto the base either. Can you help me with that? If there’s nothing here we go in.” Mikey didn’t look at Pete as he said that, and was surprised when he felt hands on his hips lifting up onto the base that was at least four feet off the ground.

Pete’s hands slid off Mikey’s hips slowly, but Mikey hardly noticed, because his eyes had caught something in the glass cage surrounding the light. It took a minute to get the rusty hinge of the cage open, but the reward was definitely worth it. There was a small piece of lined paper folded up, something indecipherable scribbled across the front. Mikey plucked it out and turned to Pete triumphantly, holding up the paper with the widest smile he’d had in months. 

“Okay, okay. You proved me wrong. But what’s it say?” Mikey sat down on the base of the lamppost facing Pete, carefully holding the piece of paper. He could just barely make out what had been scrawled across the front of the paper:

‘ _ Mikey, or whomever finds this first _ ’

Mikey showed it to pete eagerly, like a little kid at Christmas, before unfolding the paper to see what was written inside.

The writing was messy, as though it was written quickly, but with years of reading Gerard’s stories he wrote for Mikey, it was hardly a trouble.

“ _ Mikey, _

_ God loves Ugly. _

_ So I go where there is only Beauty. _

_ Where He won’t get to me anymore. _

_ I’m still singing though. _

_ And I’m still running. _

_ xog” _

Mikey didn’t realize he was staring blankly at the paper until Pete shook his shoulder, saving him from drowning in his own thoughts.

Pete looked at Mikey silently, seeming to search for any sense of knowing or understanding of the letter in the boy’s face. Mikey stared back, too many emotions clouding his thoughts like a hurricane. 

“Mikey?” Pete asked quietly, the other boy looking at him blankly.

“I don’t understand this. I’m not like him. I can’t interpret this poetic stuff like he can. I don’t understand what it means or what he wants me to know. I’m useless.” Mikey spat the words out with venom; not at Pete, not at Gerard, only at himself. He knew that someone had to know what this meant, but Mikey felt like a deflated balloon after reading the letter and didn’t want to do anything about it.

“You’re not useless, Mikey. Let me help. I’m kind of okay at this stuff.” Mikey looked up at Pete like he’d just announced he was God or something. He handed Pete the letter, leaning forward to watch Pete read it, his brown eyes scanning the words almost better than Mikey’s, like he understood more. 

Mikey had a hard time reading the letter, but Pete was a completely different story. He was locked up like a safe, the only parts of his fortune showing through yesterday morning, in that little speech he gave about how Mikey was a vigilante and he was the sidekick. Mikey hardly knew anything about Pete, whereas Pete basically knew his entire life story by heart. Mikey wanted to find out more about Pete though, because Pete seemed to be an interesting person, and a good person, which Mikey really needed at a time like this.

“Way. I think I’ve got something.” Mikey’s eyes widened at that, barely noticing the snowflakes beginning to fall on top of them.

“What? What is it?” Mikey sounded like a little kid getting a present, which made Pete smile a bit before he started.

“Okay so you see this line? ‘ _ I’m still singing though. And I’m still running _ .’? Remember that thing in California that he apparently wrote where he said something like that? That seems to be a recurring thing from this, so it obviously means a lot to him. And we’ve already got the fact that he was and maybe still is in California, so the thing about how he’s going where there’s only beauty could apply there. But I need to have any information  _ you _ know about what Gerard could mean. Did he ever talk about a place he wanted to go to?”

Mikey stared at Pete in awe, amazed at how easy it was for him to understand the crypticness of Gerard’s writing. Mikey saw it as a magical talent to understand poetry as vague as this, so Pete was basically a wizard to him at the moment.

Mikey thought about Pete’s question for a moment, trying to remember anything about what Gerard had talked to him about.

Or wrote to him about. 

In the stories Gerard wrote for Mikey as a kid, Gerard would slip in little details about himself. He’d give the characters he wrote traits similar to himself, he’d make them want to do something he would want to do. Gerard had said that he found it easier to talk about himself as someone else. Mikey didn’t really understand at the time and barely had a grasp on it now, but he did remember one key little detail that was almost always in the stories.

All the characters wanted to go to or were already in Japan.

It seemed like a small detail in the stories, maybe a sentence or to talking about the country, but it was definitely prominent in everything else. Gerard wanted to study art there, he’d confided in Mikey late one night after he came home smelling a little like their mother’s fancy wine cabinet.

“Japan.” Mikey said, quietly the first time, almost to himself. “Japan.” He repeated, looking up at Pete this time.

Pete nodded. “Great. Let’s go tell Ryan. Maybe we can use him as a sugar daddy for a little while longer.”

Mikey chuckled at that, sliding down off the base of the lamp post and landing in front of pete, their noses only a few inches apart. Pete stayed still for a moment, his eyes glazed over for a few seconds. He soon snapped out of it and stepped back, turning towards the building and started off towards it, Mikey close behind.

“It’s cold what the hell.” Pete mumbled, only now beginning to shiver as the wind and snow started to get heavier. Mikey rolled his eyes. Pete had one jacket that hardly qualified as such, it was lightweight and definitely not meant for cold weather, it didn’t even have pockets. But Pete had insisted on wearing if, for whatever godforsaken reason, but Mikey knew he would get cold at some point.

“I told you about the jacket. Maybe Ryan can ‘sugar daddy’ one for you.”

Pete laughed at that, wide smile on his face. He rubbed his hands together and tried to shove them into his pockets, which proved to be useless, as the pockets were too small for his hands.

“Fucking christ, my hands are as dry as the freakin’ Sahara.” He murmured, making Mikey laugh softly.

“I think you’re just cold. It is winter and we are on the East Coast.”

“Fuck the East Coast and fuck winter. I’m going inside now.” Pete started running then, hands halfway crammed into his pockets as he almost tripped over a snowbank on the way to the door. Mikey laughed at him and began to follow behind a little quicker.

-

“Okay but what does it  _ mean _ ?” Ryan asked, taking another drag off his joint. Mikey didn’t know how long he’d been smoking that same one, but he seemed to get a little bit more pretentious with each puff of the joint. 

They had been trying -key word  _ trying _ \- to tell Ryan what they had found out about Gerard and how they had some form of an idea where he might be headed, but he had just kept smoking pot and asking them really odd questions that didn’t fit with the situation. For example:

“Okay I get what you’re saying but what if we’re all actually birds living in the mind of an old man who's slowly going insane because he keeps imagining a world of bird people where he is God.”

Needless to say, the conversation wasn’t going that well. Until Pete actually managed to make the point that Mikey and him had been trying to make for the past fifteen minutes.

“Ryan. Shut the hell up about your bird theory. We think Gerard’s going to Japan, and he left a sign in California, so we need two plane tickets there as soon as possible. Capisce?” Mikey was impressed by how the authority seemed to come natural to Pete. Ryan seemed to snap out of his weed-induced rambling about bird people and actually listen to Pete for a short while, agreeing to get the tickets for them as soon as he could. 

Mikey and Pete left after a few more incoherent words were said by Ryan and headed back to the hotel.

-

Mikey fell asleep as soon as they reached the hotel room, collapsing on the bed from exhaustion, both emotional and physical. The previous night he had stayed up pretty late trying to fall asleep but to no avail, thinking about Gerard and what the note could mean, and what could be in the lamppost. 

He woke up to the sound of a shower running. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, his back cracking with a sickly satisfying  _ crack crack crack _ . He looked outside through the window, the dark night only being lit by the lamppost that Gerard had put the note in. Mikey couldn’t tell if it was seven o’clock or ten -one of the many factors of winter that was annoying- but it couldn’t be that late, he’d only fallen asleep at two.

The shower came to a stop, and Mikey could hear Pete rummaging around in the bathroom. The bathroom door opened, followed by a huge puff of steam and a wet-haired Pete.

“ _ Dude. _ I’ve never had a shower with that good water pressure. Or that hot. My skin may feel like it’s being melted off, but it’s freakin’ great.” He said. Mikey held back from correcting his grammar, trying to focus on how wide Pete’s smile was. Actually, Pete seemed to be a new person after the shower, especially with the smile. 

He had a towel wrapped around his waist, he was surprisingly toned for someone who was like fifteen, and Mikey had to keep himself from staring. All of the eyeliner he wore was gone, and although it wasn’t a lot, he still looked very different. And, without the eyeliner, Mikey could really see the full extent of the black eye he was sporting. To put it lightly, it was fucking nasty.

Pete pushed his hair back and cocked his eyebrow at Mikey. Mikey felt a soft blush creep onto his cheeks and he quickly broke the awkward silence before Pete said anything that would make the blush visible. 

“Haven’t taken a shower in a while, have you Pete? You’re practically glowing from cleanliness.” Pete smirked at that.

“I feel like you were trying to insult me but you actually ended up complimenting me, so thank you. By the way, what blush are you wearing? It suits your skintone fabulously.” Pete grabbed his shirt off the bed and pulled it on while Mikey’s blush grew deeper. Pete was smirking like an absolute asshole, turning to face Mikey only wearing a towel and his t-shirt.

“I’m just messing with you. Sorry about that. Go take a shower, you’ll wake up and feel better.” Pete of course had to add a wink after that, making Mikey blush a little more before going into the bathroom and locking the door.

The shower did wake Mikey up, and he changed back into his old clothes- he wasn’t that confident in his body and he didn't feel the need to change into anything else- before walking out of the bathroom.

Pete was fumbling with his guitar case, pulling whatever was in it out and placing it on the ground.

“Is that a bass?” Mikey piped up, which startled Pete into turning around.

“Oh, uh- yeah.” Pete grabbed the bass- black and red with a couple stickers on it just to give it some personality. It was a gorgeous bass, Mikey somehow felt that the bass was more attractive than him, which was a little sad, because it was an inanimate object and Mikey was well,  _ living _ . Pete got up from the ground and sat on the radiator and settled the bass into his lap, strumming a little rhythm without an amp. It didn’t sound bad to Mikey, but Pete sneered at the sound and cursed under his breath.

“It needs an amp, but mine was too big to take with me.” He looked up at Mikey from under the hair hanging over his eyes, nodding at him to take a seat on the bed. Mikey sat down, and Pete started playing a little more, something Mikey recognized, but couldn’t put a name on.

"How long have you been playing?"Mikey asked after Pete had been playing for a while. Pete seemed to change while playing, he closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath if he fucked up a note. He seemed a little more lively

"Eh, something like three or four years? I don't remember exactly. Just something I kinda picked up when my dad took me to a music store. We spent nearly a month's rent on this thing. My mom was so mad." Pete laughed, and Mikey smiled. It was nice to see Pete genuinely laugh instead of sarcastically.

"Nice."

"Yeah, I remember coming home like 'hey mom look what dad got me!' And her just saying oh my god before telling me to go to my room and chewing out my dad. Despite that, it was one of the best days of my life. I love this old thing, I'd die if I had to get rid of it."

Pete started plucking out a new rhythm, something Mikey didn’t recognize. It didn’t sound like anything he’d ever heard in any of the music he’d listened to, but Pete played with ease, even humming a tune under his breath for a bit.

"Hey, what's that rhythm you're playing?" Mikey asked, and Pete stopped playing, looking up at Mikey as if he’d just been brought out of a trance.

"Oh. My friend back where I lived was a whiz with music. He could play almost everything, and he could sing like a god. He was too shy about sharing it though. He'd use an old tape recorder he got for his birthday one year to layer his voice and make little songs without words. I sometimes gave him some poems he would sing, but he didn't show me any of them. Unless I was at his house when he recorded them. His name's Patrick. I hope he's doing alright." Pete said. He’d gotten a far away look in his eyes when he spoke, like the memory was bittersweet to him.

Mikey nodded. “I’d hope so too.”

Pete shook his head and went back to his usual sarcastic self: "What about you, Way? Got any deep dark secrets you wanna tell me?" He flicked his eyebrows at the end and laughed when Mikey glared at him.

"I feel like you know more about me than I do, if I'm being honest."Mikey laughed, almost wincing at how sad that had sounded.

Pet took his hands off the bass and leaned forward, crossing his wrists while he spoke. 

"Maybe so. But I don't know what your favorite color is. Or any basic stuff like that. I can read the emotional stuff and from what you've told me you were very close with your brother. But all that other shit that friends normally know about each other? Nothin'"

Mikey liked the use of the word ‘friend’. If he were Pete, he’d hardly consider himself a friend. He’d dragged him along after meeting him on a bus at two am what was it, two days ago? And he had forced Pete to deal with all his emotional bullshit he’d brought with him, a thing Mikey wouldn't have been handle nearly half as well if he were in Pete's shoes.

"Well, my favorite color is green. I really like video games. Comic books are the reason I haven't gone insane yet-" Pete cut him off there:

"Woah there vigilante, this sounds more like a tinder profile than a friendly conversation"

"Oh fuck off."

"Nah, that's not like me."

They both laughed at that, Pete shaking his head and plucking a few more notes out on his bass.

A thought occurred to Mikey: "Hey Pete, you've never mentioned where you're from?"

"Chicago."

Mikey’s eyes widened. "But you were on the bus in like, New Jersey!"

Pete laughed at Mikey’s reaction softly before responding.

"I've been a 'runaway' for about a week and a half Mikey. That's enough to time to go from Chicago to Philadelphia on a budget of whatever the hell I can find in the streets, or from the things I get from people I do favors for."

Mikey narrowed his eyebrows. "What kind of favors?"

Pete started smirking like absolute hell, even putting his bass down next to the radiator to put his full attention on his next words.

"’Kay this sounds gross but I blew a guy for fifty bucks."

"You're kidding!" Mikey scoffed a bit, but he was more interested than anything else.

"Nope. They guy was like 'you seem like you need some money, can you do me a favor?' And me, being a desperate bitch was like 'yeah whatever' and then a little while later his dick was in my mouth and I had fifty bucks." Pete said, leaving Mikey wide-eyed.

"Oh dear god was he old or something?" Mikey asked, which sent Pete into a bit of a laughing fit.

"Nah, he was in his early twenties. Still not legal, but less gross than a thirty five year old like 'yo kid suck mah dick!'" He gestured to his crotch as he said the last part, which made Mikey laugh so hard he almost choked.

Once he’d regained his composure, he took a breath and asked:

"What'd you use the money for?"

"Food, reusable water bottle, bandaids, and a bus ticket." Pete listed the items off on his hand, while Mikey thought about Pete with a dick in his mouth.

"Well."

"What?" Pete raised an eyebrow at Mikey’s remark.

"You seem very comfortable with having dicks in your mouth." Pete smirked at that, and Mikey knew something unnecessarily sexual was coming.

"Is that a suggestion, mikeyway? Do you want something from me?" Mikey groaned at Pete’s comment, whereas Pete just laughed.

"Oh god no that's not what I meant I-"

"I'm just messing with ya. Yeah, I don't mind a dick in my mouth. Not a big deal. I'd rather not deal with a vagina, but I guess I'd do it if the moment was necessary." Pete shrugged, and Mikey thought about what he’d said for a second before asking the question he’d assume everyone was thinking

"When is the time necessary to eat a girl out?"

"I don't know Mikey, you tell me!" Pete said, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I don't know either!" Mikey threw his hands up at well, staring at Pete in a kind of ‘what the fuck are we doing’ way.

"Why are we having this conversation!"

"I don't know!" They stared at each other for a minute before bursting out into laughter, Mikey almost falling off the bed before he caught himself.

Pete stood up and cracked his back, putting his bass back in the case and starting to talk.

“Oh by the way, Ryan came by earlier while you were asleep, told me that he’d gotten tickets for the plane to Cali at like four thirty or something like that. They’re also first class- which i protested, because we don’t need freaking first class tickets for an illegal search party- but to quote Ryan: “Fuck off, Wentz, I can take the same amount of money it took to buy those tickets and shove it up your ass if your want me to. So take the free shit and deal with it.” Mikey laughed a bit at that, but yawned in the middle of it, to which Pete shook his head.

“When was the last time you got a full night of sleep, Way? Don’t lie to me.” Pete placed his hands on his hips, which reminded Mikey a little of his mother, and he responded in the same fashion as he would his mother: but looking up shyly and shaking his head.

Pete took a breath. “I’m gonna assume that means not since Gerard left or never. Either way, you need to sleep. Go to bed, vigilante. You need the rest.” Mikey nodded and yawned again, climbing up the end covers and crawling underneath them, closing his eyes with his glasses still on.

He began slipping into sleep almost as soon as he’d settled down, but before he finally passed out, he felt a hand take his glasses off and brush his hair off his face.


End file.
